Just a Scratch
by CelandineGranger
Summary: Mikey is hurt and Donnie patches him up. B-Team fluff. Oneshot.


**AN: This little drabble was written for Myrling's 3000 Watchers Competition over on Deviantart. We were supposed to write a fanfiction inspired by one of her drawings, and this one was based on the amazing pen sketch she made, which I've also used as the cover image for this story (with her permission, of course). Her art is awesome, and if you love TMNT and haven't seen her gallery, go over to Deviantart and check it out. You won't be disappointed!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT.**

 **.o0o.**

His damp feet made loud, wet, smacking sounds that echoed off the moist tunnel walls of the sewer, but Donatello didn't care. Stealth was cast aside for the moment, for speed was the top priority. As he rushed past tunnel after tunnel, heading for home, he suddenly heard a painful gasp behind him, and his arm was jerked backwards as the hand gripping his pulled up sharply.

Donatello slowed down and looked back to see his little brother recovering from a stumble, his hand still clutching Donnie's arm and using it to regain his balance. Donatello paused in alarm, but Michelangelo nodded once, silently indicating that he was fine, and they should continue.

But he wasn't fine. Mikey's jaw was uncharacteristically set, and his face so pale his freckles stood out starkly against it. Before running on again, Donnie spared one more worried glance at the limp right arm Michelangelo kept curled protectively to his chest. Leonardo's mask, tied hastily around the wound, was insufficient to staunch the bleeding, and now the blue could barely be seen beneath the flood of red that soaked through the cloth and smeared Mikey's plastron.

Not wasting another second, Donatello took off again at top speed, dragging his little brother with him. As soon as they burst into the lair, Donnie steered Mikey toward the pit, where the young turtle gratefully plopped down on the cushioned bench. In the blink of an eye, Donatello had fetched his first aid supplies and was kneeling in front of his wounded brother.

The designated family medic couldn't quell the rising fear in his chest as he carefully removed the makeshift bandage, now stiff with drying blood. This wound was serious. That Foot soldier had meant business when he had struck with his katana, pinning Mikey's arm to the ground. If Raph hadn't been there. . . Donnie didn't even want to think about that.

Worry and panic made Donatello's heart beat faster as he examined the wound, cleansing it gently with antiseptic. The blade had been driven clean through the forearm, leaving an ugly gash that nearly reached the fingers. Snatching up a needle and thread, Donnie's hands worked quickly as he tried to repair the damage, but his distraught and overactive mind was flashing with self doubt and worst case scenarios.

None of the bones appeared to be broken, but could he tell for sure? What if some of the nerves had been severed? What if he missed something critical? Would the muscles heal properly? What if he stitched it up wrong? Would Mikey still be able to use his hand correctly?

The whirl of frantic tension in Donnie's mind was suddenly cut through by Mikey's voice, sounding pained, yet somehow still lighthearted.

"It's not as bad as it feels, right Donnie?"

His familiar words brought Donnie out of his panic and sent him reeling into an almost forgotten memory.

.o0o.

" _Ow ow ow ow! Donnie, it huuuuuurts!" wailed the six-year-old turtle as his brother shoved him onto a crate to get a look at his injury._

 _Mikey was clutching one finger in his left hand, great tears pouring from his blue eyes and rolling down his freckled cheeks._

" _It's okay, Mikey, I've got everything I need to take care of it," stated Donnie in what he meant to be an authoritative, scientific sounding voice, as he set down a roll of gauze and a box of Band-Aids. The aspiring young doctor seemed a little too enthusiastic about the whole situation, as he reveled in an opportunity to practice his budding medical skills._

 _Mikey looked apprehensively at the first aid supplies and let out a whimper._

" _Let me see your finger," coaxed Donnie, holding out his hand invitingly._

 _Slowly, the littlest turtle removed the finger in question from the protective grip of his other hand and held it out to Donnie. Before his brother could properly assess the damage, however, Mikey took one glance and cried fearfully, "Aaaa! It's bleeding! There's blood!"_

" _Don't look at it, Mikey," instructed Donatello, and his brother obediently turned his eyes toward the ceiling, large tears still making tracks down his cheeks._

" _It still hurts! And it's bleeding! My finger's going to fall off and it will hurt forever!"_

" _Mikey, calm down. It's just a scratch. It's never as bad as it feels." Donnie's confident tone did something to reassure his brother, who gave a loud sniff, still keeping his eyes averted._

" _It's okay, Mikey. I've got this."_

 _The next second Michelangelo was staring down at his finger, the tiny cut neatly concealed beneath a Band-Aid. With the blood out of sight, the pain seemed to vanish and the little turtle flew, smiling, at his brother, giving him a grateful hug. "Thanks, Donnie! You're the best!"_

.o0o.

Donnie glanced up and saw a brave smile shining on Mikey's face as he deliberately avoided looking at the wound. His blue eyes met Donnie's worried brown ones, and though there was pain glistening behind the orange mask, the younger turtle didn't let the tears fall.

Smiling wider at his stressed older brother, he said encouragingly, "Donnie, calm down. It's just a scratch."

Of course, Donatello knew this wasn't true, but Mikey's playfulness helped to relieve some of his feelings of inadequacy. Regaining his confidence with a grim smile, Donnie picked up the bandages.

In a tone of complete trust, Mikey stated, "It's okay, Donnie. You've got this."


End file.
